


Day One

by Doctorinblue



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/pseuds/Doctorinblue
Summary: BJ arrives in Korea





	1. Chapter 1

_Hawkeye._

BJ keeps the name on repeat. _Play it again, Sam._ The repetition keeps his thoughts narrow and safe and saves him (however temporarily) from the building agony of being five thousand miles from home. He takes another drink, lets Hawkeye's voice tether him, and he just manages to wrestle back the urge to run - to wave the white flag before the battle really begins.

BJ breathes in deeply. The smell of dust and alcohol and men overwhelms his senses for a moment, but he can't bring himself to mind. The knots in his chest and shoulders begin to loosen, and for the very first time since his plane touched down in Korea, he feels a fraction of okay. 

Hawkeye's smile seems to hold back the gathering storm, and BJ knows no one in their right mind should be clinging this tightly to someone they have just met. Only, he can't seem to find the will to unring this bell, and he's already tipped over the line of trusting his sanity to a near stranger. Perfect or not…

BJ has never been fond of doing things half-way, even stupid things.

Radar shifts beside him. Again. It takes a great deal of effort to pull his focus off Hawkeye, but when he does, he finds Radar purple-lipped and completely serious. BJ nearly calls retreat. That borrowed and also imaginary rank seems to gleam in the lights, acting as a beacon, calling all the attention in the room to their threesome. Or maybe that's his own sense of paranoia latching on to Radar's. 

He really will summon up a protest on Radar's behalf....just as soon as he can actually manage. Just as soon as Hawkeye stops talking, takes a real breath, and stops drawing him in close enough to borrow his confidence or spiteful ignorance. (BJ can't tell the difference and it honestly doesn't seem to matter). Hawkeye keeps BJ in his orbit, even as his attention sweeps the room.

BJ scribbles down that 'no' and seals himself as 'willing accomplice' without a second thought.

Hawkeye doesn't break until he does. Two names flowing out of him before he can catch the words, shove them away to protect Radar and himself from the sting. BJ feels it too, vicariously and too late, but he grieves the loss of two men he's never met anyway. Trapper and Henry. The one who made it home, and the one who never would. Two holes left in Hawkeye, and the camp, and Korea, and for a moment BJ is stone cold sober.

Then it's gone again, the transition is smooth as silk. Ferret Face, and new commands and jokes that lighten the load he hasn't even begun to carry. He pays because he can, because he owes them more than he knows how to express. He's a little less lost and a lot less alone, and those things feel priceless at this exact moment.

He's still a few drinks shy of sober as they stumble out, leaving Radar sharp and clear headed, and the two of them muddled and hazy around the edges. Not drunk. BJ wouldn't allow himself that luxury, but maybe the next airplane might not feel so low. Or the ground less high. He smiles, hopes this buzz will carry him back to camp in a state of semi-peace.

The jeep rattles his train of thought - not that it hasn't been threatening to derail since the handshake anyway. Just what they need. Never mind the flag, toss it to the side. Never mind Radar's pleas, 'throw your stuff in the back, BJ.’

 _Peg would like him_ , he thinks, with only the slightest shattering of his heart.

He tosses his bag in and follows after. His first day here, right? No one could blame him for letting someone else lead, even if that someone might be flirting with insanity. Probably he will be too, soon enough. Radar drives and Hawkeye fusses and the war doesn't feel so different from home.

His legs cramp after only a few minutes, but he's more than a little enthralled by the way Hawkeye lies on his feet. If play along has become the name of the game, BJ finds himself heads-over-heels willing. He doesn't quite understand the rules, probably wouldn't sober, but he seriously suspects Hawkeye changes them often and to suit his needs anyway.

BJ doesn't mind. He wants to see where the road leads.

The jeep careens around another corner, and he sternly reminds his stomach they won't be vomiting. He has appearances to keep up, even half-sloshed and full terrified. He holds on a little tighter, lets the wind blow the air from his lungs and tries to pretend this is all normal - that everything isn't passing too fast to process. Does everyone's first day feel like a brakeless roller coaster ride?

They slow to a stop and his stomach nearly shouts 'hallelujah' before it clenches for an all new reason. BJ tells himself not to judge what he can't understand, but he's angry and confused and judging before he can get the thought to completion. What kind of man could let his children into a potential minefield? What kind of father chose an animal over his child? BJ grits his teeth and the only thing that saves him, his stomach, and their father is the explosion.

Radar shifts into a hero and runs in without a second thought. The fear of losing someone he just found hits BJ in the gut. Even as he wraps the girl up, loads them into the front seat, his heart is pounding so hard he half expects to see it flop out and away through the dirt.

The hospital is pitiful. He's seen poverty, but never like this. He leaves her there because it's closest, and because Hawkeye tugs his sleeve, and leads him to wash his hands. BJ scrubs them clean, accepts the slightly dirty and already damp towel and the fact that his heart will stay stained long after he washes the blood away.

The walk back to the jeep is slower. No jokes. He longs for them, though. He needs them as deeply as he understands why no one should be joking in a moment like this. Climbing in, he shares a look with them, before the key is turned and life starts again. What choice do they have?

The pop scares him, and BJ is surprised to find he has any adrenaline left to dump into his veins. Even scared, it only takes him a minute to realize it's only a flat. This they can handle. The gunfire though, is unexpected. For him. He dives into the back, curls his knees to his chest, and hopes to hell no one has to write Peggy a letter one day into his war.

But they don't die. He slowly sits up, does a self inventory and finds himself intact. His eyes search Hawkeye and Radar and when he deems them whole, he lets out a breath.

Somehow, things feel a little better with Hawkeye behind the wheel. The breakneck pace settles to something a little closer to a fracture, and they're talking again. It's okay that nothing is okay. It's okay that BJ should be scared speechless, probably is, but Hawkeye won't stop talking long enough for his brain to realize it.

It keeps BJ talking, keeps the thoughts from swarming all at once. They're not gone he knows, imagines the nightmares to come, but for the moment he just lets himself lean closer into Hawkeye's space under the pretense of better hearing.

They come upon soldiers, and somehow this surprises him. Their soldiers, thankfully. This time. 

Babies masquerading as men. He leans back again. He's making it. One slow mile at a time.

The first bomb almost doesn't register. Another tire. Another shot that will miss. The second leaves no doubt. He joins Hawkeye under a truck and for the second time in one day he's certain he's going to die - right here in this field, five thousand miles from his wife and child. The bombs keep falling, and people are dying and dead, and injured all around him. He slips out after Hawkeye, his heart in his throat and his mouth bone dry.

His hands are shaking, and though he has the diploma to prove he's an actual doctor, he feels inadequate in the face of this. Fumbling for a trauma dressing, he shakes it loose. Miles from camp, far before he ever expected to be needed, he's wrapping some kid's leg and hoping his bedside manner has stretched far enough to make it here.

Hawkeye calls for him, and BJ can see him through the fading smoke. Hawkeye is fast, and smart, and has clearly done this before. Training means nothing. You couldn't train for this. Even Radar moves more sure, and neither of them are strangers to carnage, and it breaks BJ's heart that this will happen to him too. He can feel his ignorance slipping away. His hope is burning with the grass.

The mud catches him by surprise, enters his nose and mouth, and he all but tosses the bag onto the closest body. Hawkeye doesn't seem to notice, or care. He takes the bag from him, eyes only for the man he is trying to save. Will save. Has to save. BJ wills life into him, as he flips the body beside him.

Dead. Far beyond help, even if he had the best equipment at his fingertips.

At least it was quick, he thinks, before his stomach loses the fight.

He crawls away, fingers digging into the grass, heaving and if he weren't he'd surely be sobbing. He just saw the kid. He was just alive. How could BJ do this? How could anyone do this?

Hands touch him and shame flares, but he's too busy to protest or pull away. He thinks (knows) Hawkeye must understand. The touch lasts only a moment, more work to do, but he accepts the hand up.

They stay until the last man is loaded. Until the last body has been taken away. He stands, staring at a puddle of blood soaking into the dirt, changing it to a shade it should never be. The fear is gone. He doesn't worry about snipers, or bombs. Nothing hurts. The blood on his hands is already dry, no longer sticky and cold. He feels nothing.

Empty. Hollow. Probably for the best.

A hand touches his, runs up to the crook up his elbow. A small tug, the grip stays gentle but firm.

He looks over.

Hawkeye.

Of course.

"Hawkeye, I-"

"I know,' Hawkeye says, nodding. "Come on, BJ. Let's go."

 _Peg would like him_ , he thinks, as Hawkeye saves him again.

He lets him pull him back to the jeep, even though he wants to stay in that spot forever. He climbs back up, and they start off again. Hawkeye driving, Radar in the back. He has nothing to say. They have nothing to say. Mud and blood soaked, emptied from the inside out.

He'll die here, he's certain. Even if his body makes it back to the States.

Turns out, he's been right from the start. Korea is just hell wearing a nicer name.


	2. Chapter 2

BJ thinks he's dying.

He's certain of it actually. Slowly, inside out, until there is nothing left of the man who arrived in Korea hours ago. Hours? How could it still be the same day? It feels like lifetimes since he's landed, and he struggles to hang onto Erin's perfect face, to recall the gentle (soul-saving) sound of Peg's voice. The memories didn't survive the fall, he fears. They couldn't stretch far enough to save him here. 

Or maybe it's only the smell that drowns them out. Blood and smoke have pervaded his senses, saturated his clothes, and they will forever be flimsy grave markers to kids whose names he'll never know. His stomach clenches again as the jeep rolls to a stop in front of a bar. BJ looks up, lets out a breath, and dares to let himself meet Hawkeye's eye.

Probably he knows all about drowning in the dirt. 

The camp is right across the street. BJ knows they should be reporting in, should do what is expected of them. But he's dangerously sober now, and mud covered, and he just can't bring himself to give a damn what the Army might want. Hawkeye and Radar are the only two people in this whole country he really knows, feels like he can trust because he sure can't trust himself. He's clinging (desperately) to Hawkeye - will follow him anywhere if it means he can ignore the screams gathering at the base of his skull.

Hawkeye is already climbing out of the jeep and throwing himself face forward towards the shack as if salvation lies within. Maybe it sort of does? Drinking is probably the absolute last thing BJ should be considering, but he follows all too willingly. Where else would he rather be? He's so lost, falling apart inside and out. And it's crazy, but he thinks Hawkeye might just be stupid and brave enough (broken and open enough) to pull him back from the edge - to keep his empty body from floating away until he has time to fill it up again.

The bar is rundown, yet somehow cleaner than the hospital they left behind. Acid rises and burns the back of his throat. He swallows, tries to bury the thought of leaving that girl behind as he drops into the chair opposite Hawkeye. His brain works on a protest. Several, actually. He knows better than this. They need to walk away. Drinking only hides the pain. He knows the words by heart, but even as they obligingly fill his mouth, he is aware they are halfhearted at best.

A complete lie at worst. 

Hawkeye seems to know too. 

The alcohol burns, and it soothes, and it warms him deep his chest. So does Hawkeye's laughter. And he knows that he should want to go to camp, they'll have a bed for him, one near Hawkeye if he remembers correctly. Even better - a room with a view. His heart speeds up and he gulps back the drink and wants to blame the dryness in his mouth on the dirt. Or the way he's too many miles from comfortable. But he knows the truth too well. He's scared to death, and Hawkeye has a pretty face. And, God, he's so damn far from home. Looking is all he has.

The thought hazes with another mouthful, another gulp. He won't address it, won't meet Hawkeye's hopeful expression for a few moments.

The table breaks, and Hakweye doesn't. He buys another round and tells another story. An hour ago BJ thought he'd never laugh again and now he can't seem to stop. All the world has screeched to a halt, narrowed down to brown hair and blue eyes and he wants to lean sloppily on Hawkeye until they find that bed.

Or he finds a bed. Separate from Hawkeye, of course. He might be drunk and fuzzy, but he knows the Army has rules. He has rules. The world has rules, and none of those quite allow himself to fall into Hawkeye's arms without looking back.

He flops himself into the back of the jeep, closes his eyes, the laughter still rolling off him. Maybe he'll survive after all. Maybe if he doesn't lose Hawkeye he won't lose himself.

They roll into the camp laughing, honking, and disturbing the peace in a way he'd never allow himself to in Mill Valley. It feels amazing, and heartbreaking, and he chooses to ignore the second. Forget first impressions, all his worry, only one person seems to matter now. And he suspects Hawkeye has given him a stamp of approval. He slips out of the jeep, wobbles and looks at the man that Hawkeye has said so little yet so much about.

"What say you, Ferret Face," he says, laughter cutting off his words. 

He slips to his knees, clings to the closest waist, as Hawkeye's laughter drowns out the war. BJ closes his eyes, his chest still hiccupping out laughter, even as hands pull him to his feet. Hawkeye again. A head slips under his arms, and he's resting against Hawkeye heavily, just as he wanted. It feels as good as he had imagined.

They make it to a tent. It's large. Or small. He can't decide. It doesn't matter. A bunk. Hawkeye all but tips him onto it, and how he's sober enough to manage pulling BJ's boots off BJ can't begin to imagine. A blanket is pulled up to his chin and he suddenly feels all too sober to be this drunk.

"Thanks," he mutters.

"You're going to be okay, BJ," Hawkeye says. "I promise."

A hand strokes over his hair, and every thought dissolves with the touch. Tomorrow, with a hangover, he's going to have to figure all of this out. Including the reason he doesn't want Hawkeye to stop stroking his hair like he's a frightened child.

Probably Hawkeye thinks he's asleep - heaven knows he's hanging by a thread in so many ways - but BJ will recall the way his heart freezes for several beats for the rest of his life. He felt the same the first time he'd held Peg's hand.

_Peg will like him,_ he thinks as sleep consumes him.


End file.
